Warhammer 40k: Life in the 177th
by Keyholder
Summary: When Edger Ingram is transferred to the 177th Penal Legion, he finds himself under the command of oppressive officers, subject to horrible conditions,and encounters suspicion at every turn. But more than that, he learns what it means to be a soldier.
1. Welcome to the 177th

Welcome to the 177th

As the door to the hold opened, blinding light poured into the hold. All of the men inside squinted and covered their eyes to protect it from the sudden rays of sunlight. As my eyes slowly adjusted, I saw an Imperial officer standing on the ramp boarding ramp.

"Alright scum, time to get off." He barked.

All of us, still in our jumpsuits, got up out of our seats and formed into a line. As we stepped out of the ship, we could immediately smell the pollutants and smoke in the air. The air was a dark oppressive grey and the light, though strong, had a sickly feel to its warmth. It looked like even the Emperor had forsaken this place. As far as I knew, I think the Emperor had forsaken me as well.

"Form up." the officer yelled. All of us got into a line, shoulder-to-shoulder, and stood at a stiff attention. The officer had a very sharp face, and by the way he walked and spoke, I could tell that he had never fought a battle in his life. Next to him stood a rather large guardsman, in his hand he was holding a lasgun. He was a typical Imperial officer; He didn't have the stomach to get his own hands dirty. The officer slowly paced along, occasionally stopping and looking at one of the men, then continued on to the next person. After he had walked the entire line he walked out in front of the line and stood.

"Welcome to Aquintus. I am Major Sulkem. As you know you have been transferred here due to your incompetence as guardsmen. You sick excuses of guardsmen were spared form death due to your superior officer's unnecessary mercy, but I assure you that any inability to perform a task here will result in immediate execution. You _will not_ cause any disruption here and you _will _follow my orders. Is that clear?" He asked

None of us spoke. He nodded. "Good. Report to your assigned lieutenants within the next hour or there will be consequences. Dismissed." He said. We all saluted and he walked away.

"What a prick." The man next to me muttered. I snorted. There were plenty of those from where I came from. Back in the 45th the place was run by pompous hypocritical assholes that only sent us out to die while they took all the credit. I was expecting this place would be at least a little different. I guess I was wrong.

A junior officer organized us into five lines and at the head of each line a man with a notepad stood, taking and giving a variety of information to us. When I reached the front of the line, the man dully glanced up at me and looked back at his notepad.

"Name?" He asked

"Edger Ingram." I answered

"Regiment of Origin?"

"Cadian 45th"

"Reason for transfer?"

"Assault of a senior officer."

When I said that his eyes suddenly looked up at me and his lips slightly curved with disgust.

"You will be serving under Lieutenant Leopold's company; you can find him in Block 17. Next" He said. I walked out of the line and looked at the signs. The entire camp was based in a large square. It was probably supposed to be a park or something. The square was roughly divided by makeshift walls into different areas, each with a number respective to its company above it. As I walked by Block 1, I saw well sheltered bunkers, a full kitchen and clean outhouses. This company was obviously made up of the favorites and extended family of the senior officers. Glad to see nepotism was alive even among criminals.

The other blocks were completely different. They were dirty, worn-out and undersupplied. It seemed that the blocks got progressively worse after each number. By the time I got to 17 the shelters were a patchwork of wood and other debris that had been pasted to the roof. The kitchen had a smell that should have warded off any living thing, and the outhouses were nothing but holes in the ground. I'm glad that I'm not in Block 30.

I walked in and headed to the office at the end of the block. As I entered I saw a man sitting at his desk smoking a cigar with one handing and reading papers with another. He looked up at me and set his papers down.

"You must be my replacement." He took a drag on his cigar. "I'm Lieutenant Leopold; I'll be your supervising officer in this company." I just kept quiet.

"Quiet type, huh? I can work with that." He said as he picked up his documents again. "You'll be assigned to 2nd Platoon, 8th Squad. You are under the command of Sergeant Byre." He took another drag. "Head over to the armory and get your stuff, when you're ready report to your squad." With that he went back to his documents. I turned around and left.

The block, like the square, was divided into subsections, with three that said "Kitchen" "Latrines" and "Armory", while the other three had numbers on them.

I headed over to the armory and entered. A small skittish man in glasses took my measurements. He jerked his body abruptly and leaped all around me, getting measurement on my torso, my legs, and then my arms. He issued me my armor, weapon, and supplies. I took them and left.

With my things in hand I walk towards Section 2 and look for Barracks 8. As I walk looking for it, I see the other soldiers, most of them in trench coats, eyeing me suspiciously. Some of them were gambling, others were eating, but they all had the same look on their face: superiority.

When I reached Barracks 8 I pushed the door open. As soon as I did the smell of unwashed clothing, unwashed men, and sweat intoxicated me. Inside six men looked up at me. A rather big fellow, sitting on his bed, looked at me and smirked.

"Who's the bareback?" He asked.

Another man walked up to me. "He is Walter's replacement. What's your name son?" This man was different from the other officers I had spoken to today. His voice had something that all the others lacked. It had sincerity. I guess he was worth my time.

"Edger Ingram." I answered. The man in front of me nodded.

"I'm Sergeant Byre. Welcome to 8th Squad. Just put your things on that bunk over there and I'll introduce you to everyone." I did as he said. Another man, a rather small and skinny one at that, looked at my things.

"I'll trade you my boots for yours. Mine will probably fit you a lot better." He said, while giving me a sly smile.

"Hey." The man sitting next to him said. I looked at him."Don't get your head stuck in the bullshit." He said to me.

Sgt Byre pointed at him. "That's Sampson. He is our heavy weapons specialist." He then pointed to the small man. "That's Picochet. He is our resident tech junkie, and con artist. He can come in handy when you need things from the other squads, but don't let him take advantage of you."

"Like I said, keep your head out of the bullshit." Sampson said.

"That's Hogs." Sgt. Byre said motioning to the big man in the back. "He is our demolitions man and regiment chef."

The Sgt. pointed at two men on the other side of the room. "The one on the left is Lier and the one on the right is Klein. He is the only bareback besides you."

"Bareback?" I asked

"You'll see." Hogs said, smugly chuckling to himself.

"You came at a slow time. You just missed some action." Byre said. We had finished beating some gangers down 'ere back into shape. We just came back to resupply. Too bad you didn't come sooner."

"Ye, too bad." Hogs said.

Byre looked at Sampson. "You're in charge 'o him; make sure he knows what to." Sampson nodded. I went back to my bunk and started to organize my things.

" New blood. Change into your uniform. Sulkem's a real hard ass about that." Sampson said. I took my jumpsuit off and put on the clothes. They were itchy, and it felt rough on my skin.

"You'll get used to them." Klein said as he saw me itching myself. "At least we don't have wear those collars." He then looked at Hogs. "What's for lunch today?" He asked.

"Made me special stew." Hogs said with a grin. Something bothered me about that. He looked at his watch. "I got to go to the kitchen, hope you like me cooking bareback." He said, cackling, as he walked out.

As the lunch bell rang, all the men got up of their beds and walked towards the exit. I got up and did the same. We all got in the line in the kitchen section, and waited. When we reached the front we saw Hogs pouring out the soup. He gave everyone but me and Klein extra large portions.

I followed Klein over to a table where our squad was sitting and sat down.

"So." Picochet said as he took a bite out of a piece of bread. "You want to donate any of your food new guy?"

Sampson shut him up with a glance. He then looked at me.

"So what did you get in for?" He asked. I glanced up at him, confused. "You know, what did you do?" I kept quiet. Sampson just smiled. "What? You shy or something. C'mon man, you're among criminals, I bet what you did is nothing compared to some of the stuff we've done." I still kept quiet. Sampson reclined on his seat.

"Well I got in for fighting." He said. He looked over at Picochet. "He got caught gambling."

Picochet looked up from his food. "Hey. I was simply making some business ventures with them when my commanding officer unjustly imprisoned me and sent me here." Sampson just shook his head.

"Hogs came from a pretty rough regiment. One day someone decided to be funny and loosened the bolts on his bed. So Hogs kills the guy, cuts him up, and uses him as the meat for his chili the next day. And Lier…well he's never told us. Point is, we've all done some stuff. So what'd you get in for?"

I took a spoonful of the soup. I almost gagged. It tasted like urine mixed with spoiled meat that had the consistency and smell of spoiled milk. I struggled to swallow it. "I gave my Major a black eye." Sampson started laughing. I didn't know if it was because of how I handled the food or my answer.

"Well just don't try that here, Sulkem will probably have you killed."

"What planet are you from?" Klein asked, after taking a hearty gulp of soup.

" Cadia." I answered.

"How old are you?" Byre asked.

"Twenty-Five" I answered.

"What was it like back at your old regiment? Well, pretty bad I guess since you socked a guy" Sampson said. I nodded.

"What kind of things have you fought?" Klein asked.

"Just a few." I answered.

"That doesn't answer my question." Klein said. I put my spoon down.

"I fought at Armageddon. Killed my share of Orks." Sampson whistled loudly.

I guess this probing could be expected since I'm new. The only person that didn't speak was Lier, he just quietly ate his food.

"So, why is the 177th stationed here?" I asked after washing down some more soup with dirty water. "There doesn't seem to be anything going on here."

"Apparently there is an underworld gang-war going on in the lower areas of Aquintus." Byre said.

"Isn't that Arbite work?" I asked.

"Usually. But this time it's different. Apparently one of the gangs has connections to a pretty powerful Dark Eldar pirate. Imperial brass wanted us 'ere just in case a full blown Dark Eldar invasion." Byre answered.

"And us, being a Penal Legion, are here as the meat shields and guinea pigs if this does happen." Picochet said.

"Figures." Klein said. After dinner we headed back to the barracks to get ready to sleep. The other guys told us that Sulkem insisted on an "early bird catches the worm" policy and it was lights out usually by 1600 hours. We got in our bunks and turned off the lights. I could hear the others sleeping soundly but I just laid there deep in thought. I was living under an oppressive senior, in unsanitary conditions, while waiting for a Dark Eldar invasion to occur. Yep, welcome to the 177th.


	2. Taming of Hogs

Making Progress

I spent the next few weeks learning and adjusting to life in a Penal Legion. I did my best to follow Sampson's example, and got help from the other members of 8th Squad. Well, kind of. Hogs just laughs at me.

The days are long here, and the heat is unbearable. It makes the uniforms even more uncomfortable and sticky as the sweat comes out. It especially horrible when we are doing our marching drills. It eventually became so bad that Picochet had to give me a tutorial on "trading" in the 177th.

We were walking around after another unsuccessful attempt to eat Hogs cooking. He saw me itching myself and snickered.

"Itchy isn't it?" He said. He motioned me to follow him. We walked out of our block and started towards the first one.

"Why we going there?" I asked, trying to get an especially hard to reach spot on my back.

"You want a new uniform right?" He asked me over his shoulder.

"What?" I reply, still confused.

"Look. Those 1st Company boys are favorites sure, but they aren't very smart." He said. "Basics of trading rule number one; only trade with idiots."

When we approached the 1st Company banner, the men inside gave us looks of disgust and some even motioned to wave their hands in front of their noses. Pussies. Picochet motioned me close.

"Rule number two: Learn how to kiss some ass." He said. He slowly approached a group of men sitting around a table, playing a game of cards. They had their hair neatly combed back and wore clean and refined uniforms.

When hey saw us approach, one of them spat on the ground. "Don't get to close scum. I don't want your smell to stay on my clothing." He ran his fingers through his hair. "What do you want anyway?"

Picochet lowered his head at the ground. "I was just wondering if you had any spare uniforms you could part with."

The circle of men started laughing. "Why should we give anything to you?" Another one asked.

Picochet lowered his gaze even more. "I just thought that because of your bravery and great combat skills that you may have some spoils of war you could give to keep us lowlife lazy scum from dying. " He said pitifully.

The men laughed again. "Sounds reasonable to me." He motioned over to one of the men. He produces a semi-dirty uniform and a pair of worn boots. He held them out for Picochet.

"Thank you. Your combat skills are only rivaled by your kindness." Picochet said while reaching out for the clothing. The man then pulled the things back and threw them into a muddy puddle. The circle of men started cackling again. Picochet scrambled to the puddle, picked up the things, and motioned to me to follow.

As we walked out of the block he started to wring the uniform out. "You lucky bastard. When I got one for myself they threw it in the latrines.

The next day, wearing my new uniform, Byre, Klein, Picochet and I went out for target practice. Sampson, Lier, and Hogs were exempt sue to the fact that they used specialized weaponry. We walked across to the shooting range, which was basically a converted playground, and set ourselves up along the line.

Naturally the 1st Company was allowed to shoot first. I watched with extreme amusement as the men took aim, not a single one of them holding their lasgun properly, and fired at the targets. The playground lit up in a light show of crimson lights, all of them missing. In the rare event that one of the men hit a target, they'd turn around and start hooting "I got one! Did you see that shot?"

After the 1st Company had exhausted their ammunition, most of it wasted, they were excused and allowed to head back to their Block. Major Sulkem then ordered the next companies to come. The once stationary targets started to move at an inhuman pace, flicking up and done, jerking left to right. That bastard! He couldn't come to terms with the fact that the 1st Company were horrible so he just made it impossible for us to succeed. The men didn't even hit one. Sulkem sent them on a marching drill for their inability to hit a single target, and dismissed them.

After about an hour or two it was our turn. We stood up along the line and readied our guns.

"Ready." We heard Sulkem screech. We braced the guns against our shoulder.

"Aim." I lined up the sights down my vision.

"Fire!"

The targets started popping up and down all over the play ground. I looked around and saw Byre aiming and firing, missing the target by a long shot. I looked back at the playground and put my rifle up to aim. I concentrated and watched the pattern of the targets. After calculating the routine of the targets, I placed my rifle at the spot where a target should pop up in the next second. As soon as I saw the red bull's-eye pop up I pulled the trigger. I grunted with satisfaction as three lasers hit home.

"Stop!" I heard Sulkem scream. We all stopped firing and looked back at him "Who hit that target?" He asked. I raised my hand.

"I did sir." I said confidently. He strode up to me with his guard. He nodded to his guard. The man took his rifle and smacked it in my head. My vision exploded into bright lights as I stumbled to the ground. As I struggled to regain my composure I could vaguely hear Sulkem speak.

"Let this serve as an example to your scum." He said. He then turned on his heels and marched back to his post. I understood. Byre wasn't missing because he couldn't hit the target; he was missing because he wanted to. Byre and Klein helped me back on my feet

"Careful. You got lucky this time. He usually shoots people." Byre said. He then picked up his rifle and started firing again. We finished "practice" after about thirty minutes, after which we did marching drills for the same reasons as the other companies. We then made our way back to the barracks.

I sat down my bed and fingered the back of my head. It was raw and bloody. Hogs walked up to me and looked at it. He rubbed his fingers in it and walked away laughing.

"You'll get used to it bareback." He said

Klein turned me around and started to treat it. "You're lucky." He said. "He punched mine when I first got here." It was funny. Every time I hear the word lucky, misfortune seemed to befall on me. By the time Klein had patched me up it was time for lunch.

We got into line and waited. When we were almost at the front Klein nudged me. "Damn. I thought he'd be gone a little longer." I heard Klein mutter.

"What?" I muttered back. Klein pointed at a man that was making his way to the front of the line. He shoved me aside and walked up to Hogs.

"Who's this?" I asked Klein.

"That is Artellus Selkem . He's the Major's nephew. He was vacationing for the past few weeks. Guess even family can't disappear from a regiment too long." Klein explained.

"What's he doing here?"

"Rumor has it that he "had his way" with a planetary governor's daughter back at Magnus VI. He ended up getting transferred to his uncle's regiment. One guess why."

I looked back at him and saw him yelling at Hogs. "You call this food? What are you putting in this shit?." He said throwing his bowl at Hogs. He then turned around and started to walk away. Hogs just brushed off the splatter on his apron, and picked up the bowl.

"Don't eat it if you don't want to asswipe." He muttered under his breath. Artellus spun back around.

"What was that?" he raged.

"Nothing" Hogs said.

"Nothing, what?" Artelluss screamed kicking over the cauldron of soup and bowls. The boiling liquid poured all over the ground. I could hear the grumbling of the hungry men behind me.

"Nothing…Sir." Hogs said grudgingly.

"That's what I thought." Artellus said. He turned around and walked back to his table, where all the 1st Company bastards from yesterday were pointing and laughing.

"Hey asshole!" I yelled at him. He stopped in his tracks and spun around. His eyes were huge with rage. 'Who said that?" He growled.

"Hey asshole." I said again. This time he saw me. He walked up to me and stood face to face with me. "What did you say to me?" He said in a hoarse whisper. I answered him with my fist. He went face first into the soup on the ground and looked up at me in shocked silence. He reached up to his and felt his lips, looked at the blood, and looked back at me dumbfounded.

His buddies had heard the commotion and had come over. 'What happened?" one of them asked.

Artellus pointed at me. "H-he, he punched me!" He said, still surprised. The men looked at me. I kept my eyes square on Artellus.

"If you ever pull shit like that again, I'll do more than punch you." I said. "Now go on, get out of here." I said. Still looking at me with saucer eyes, he got up with the help of his friends and retreated back to his block.

I knelt down and helped Hogs pick up the bowls. "You need any help making some more?" I asked. He shook his head, his eyes almost as big as Artellus's. I shrugged and turned around. I saw all thirty companies looking at me flabbergasted. None of them spoke. They just stared. Then, as if someone turned a switch on, they all bursted into a massive applause. The men were clapping their hands and hollering as the swarmed around me, giving me pats on the backs and hive fives. They basically carried me to a table and sat me on it.

As soon as Hogs had finished the soup he brought me over a massive helping of it and gave it to me. He looked at me and smiled.

"You're alright for a bareback." He said. With that he disappeared back into the kitchen. Maybe it was me, but the soup tasted a lot better that day.


End file.
